Just A Dream
by CrazyClouds
Summary: After the eternal night, waking up in Yancy Academy is a shock. The question remains, however; which one is a dream? PJO x Bloodborne crossover
1. Chapter 1

A shrill, ear-piercing noise woke him suddenly, causing him to shoot upright in an instant. His eyes opened wide, spinning frantically as they scanned the area for any immediate threats. None were found, but that did not mean he was safe.

He strained his senses to their limit, twitching at the slightest sound, sniffing like a bloodhound. Unfortunately, neither would help him this time. The area was silent, saturated with a scent he had never encountered before. The smell of salt water, which confused him, since he had no recollection of ever coming across any particularly large bodies of water… Actually, there was one, but he wasn't sure if that was real or not.

A head, covered in a dome of hair and pale skin popped down from above him, instantly setting him on edge. With reflexes honed through hardship, he lashed out. Very slowly. He watched his fist, which seemed to be moving through molasses, in shock. It took an eternity to cover half the distance between himself and his adversary, when he found that he had stopped moving. Quickly, he scanned his body for any restraints, but once more found none. He _did_ , however, notice that his arm was stretched out to its maximum length. It was also incredibly short.

"Woah!" the head cried in a reedy voice, jerking backwards once he stopped moving. "Careful, dude! You almost hit me!" The head then retreated back to the top of the canopy over him, and was instead replaced by a pair of legs wearing black flannel trousers. Now on the ground, he could see that the possible foe was male, rather short, and standing in an odd stance. His hands were relaxed, down by his side, and his legs were close together. Should he be attacked right now, he would be overcome in an instant.

For some reason, the tension faded from his body. Seeing this person in their entirety seemed to trigger a foreign memory. This person was… An ally? A friend? Definitely not an enemy.  
"Oh… Sorry… Grover." The name came out more like a question.

"It's fine, I shouldn't have just dropped down like that. Say, are you okay, man? You're looking a little pale. You need to go to the nurse?" Grover asked.

A nurse was,,, A person who worked in a clinic. No, he had bad memories of clinics. Best to avoid those. He silently shook his head, not sure what would come out of his mouth if he tried to speak.

Grover narrowed his eyes at him, but shrugged indifferently. "Well, if you're sure… I'm gonna hit the shower."

Grover had an odd, yet somehow familiar, manner of speaking. Words which he did not understand made sense, and he knew what Grover was saying.

Grover set about gathering things. From a chest of drawers, he withdrew some articles of clothing, then grabbed a large woolen cloth hanging off the back of the door. With those things in hand, Grover turned toward one of the two doors at the front of the room, and went through one. The door closed, and the click of a lock was heard.

With Grover currently occupied, he immediately rolled off the bed he was sitting on, stumbling when he didn't make contact with the floor at the expected time. It seemed that his arm was not the only thing which had shrunk. He must have been at least a head shorter than before, resulting in excessively skewed balance. Should he need to fight, he would be at a severe, likely fatal, disadvantage.

Immediately, he scanned the room once more, noting the chests, stacked beds, single windows, and mess of clothes on the floor. Jeans, his addled mind supplied, and t-shirts with patterns, and socks, and the occasional boxer.

How did he know these things? Where was this information coming from? All he remembered was the endless night, the dreams and the nightmares, all the blood and death…

How did he even know his name was Percy Jackson?


	2. Chapter 2

Adjusting… Or rather, _re_ adjusting to life at Yancy Academy, if his odd memories were to be believed, was difficult. Some things Percy could do by instinct, such as navigating his way through the strangely familiar building to his classes, which were taught by strangers he had near to no recollection of. He was surrounded by people who seemed to be the same age as him, yet he knew none of their names. Not even the large, red-headed girl that enjoyed hurling insults at him. He had asked Grover once, and the other boy simply looked at him strangely. Percy never did receive an answer, so he simply dubbed the girl Red-Hair.

Red-Hair's insults were not very creative. She must have been quite fond of the word 'dork', for she used it in every third sentence. Her jabs slid off Percy's skin like water, aggravating her to no end. Before, he would have been incredibly satisfied to see his bully so frustrated. Now, he just ignored it. After the things he'd seen, the things he'd _done_ , a few words were inconsequential. Thankfully, her attempts to put him down remained verbal. He was not sure how well he could fight in this body. Likely better than her, but his new balance may spell his doom.

Other than Grover, the only person Percy could vaguely remember was Mr. Brunner, his Latin teacher. Aside from teaching a language, the man also spent a great deal of class time discussing Greek mythology, which struck Percy as odd. The Romans were the ones who spoke Latin, after all. Another thing which stood out to Percy was the man himself.

Mr. Brunner seemed… Old. Not in the childish way, in which everybody above twenty was considered ancient, but almost like the man had lived long enough to see empires rise and fall. HIs eyes spoke of centuries, perhaps even millennia, of experience. Every time he turned those eyes upon Percy, he seemed both sad and indifferent at the same time. Almost like the man expected something horrible to happen to him, and was simply bracing himself for the inevitable. It was quite disconcerting.

Besides that, however, things were mostly fine. He did well in his classes, which was apparently not normal given his teachers' reactions, and only had to speak with Grover. He did not seem to have been very popular before. Though this may have caused him no small amount of frustration long ago, he was rather glad for the solitude now. This way, he was able to sort through his thoughts in peace. Grover was thankfully quite perceptive, and never bothered Percy without reason when he was deep in thought.

When he no prior engagements, Percy spent his free time exercising, attempting to strengthen his body as much as he could. Considering he had no acquaintances to occupy his afternoons, that was quite a lot of free time. Hopefully, he would never be as slow as that first morning, ever again.

All in all, things were going fairly well.

At least, until the day of the field trip came up.

* * *

"Can anyone tell me what scene this statue depicts? Perhaps… Mr. Jackson? What say you?" Mr. Brunner asked. Said boy currently had a glazed look to his eyes, and Grover had to nudge his friend with a crutch.

Percy blinked, then shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Please explain this statue to the class," Mr. Brunner replied patiently. Percy looked at the monument his teacher was gesturing towards.

"A man eating a baby… That would be the Titan King, Kronos, swallowing his children whole, due to his fear of being usurped."

"Excellent, Mr. Jackson! Now, for extra credit, would you be able to tell me why knowing such a thing would be important in real life?"

Percy narrowed his eyes at the Latin teacher. This was odd, even for the man who challenged his students sword-point to chalk piece. The way he spoke, it was almost as if he was testing Percy in a capacity _outside_ of a harmless hypothetical question, as if this would truly have an impact on his life.

Then again, it very well might. Sometime after his initial awakening, between the struggles of learning to live in this place, Percy had sensed a well of arcane energy deep within himself. It did not feel unnatural, meaning this power had been with him long enough to integrate itself fully. Yet, try as he might, Percy could not recall anything out of the ordinary happening before, involving this power. That was not saying much, however, considering he remembered next to nothing about his life before Yancy Academy.

As such, he had no clue what types of otherworldly beings may or may not inhabit this world. When compared with his past experiences, ruling out the possibility entirely was foolish.

"That would depend, Mr. Brunner. Would you be willing to humor me, for a short while at least?" Percy finally asked. The man tilted his head in confusion, though he nodded all the same.

"This may be important if, say… Kronos was not truly a myth, and wished to finish what he started. From what I have learned in your class, should he succeed, the aftermath would not be pretty for mortals such as us."

His classmates began to laugh, pointing and ridiculing him. However, he blocked them out in favor of studying his teacher. Mr. Brunner paled drastically, his eyes wide in shock, before he finally composed himself.

"T-that is a good answer, Mr. Jackson. I fear, however, it is not quite the one I was looking for. I was hoping to hear something along the lines of the corruption of power, which drove a man to do something so despicable as eating his own children. Still, you have earned a few points for your… _Imaginative_ , answer."

Mr. Brunner's explanation fell on deaf ears, for Percy's attention had been claimed by something much more worrying. Namely, the fierce scowl on Mrs. Dodds' face.

* * *

"Now, _honey_ , you've caused us a lot of trouble. Why don't you do the smart thing and confess? You'll be _much_ better off, I promise."

"Confess to what, Mrs. Dodds? I have done nothing wrong," Percy replied, eyeing the woman warily. Her normally raspy voice was much scratchier than normal, as if she had taken up chain-smoking recently.

Thunder clapped in the sky above, which Percy could have sworn was clear for miles around moments before he entered the museum.

"Did you honestly think you would get away with what you've done!?" Mrs. Dodds shrieked, all semblance of cordiality gone.

"There is nothing to get away with," Percy said calmly, though he was wound tighter than a spring. He was waiting, anxious for the moment when the woman would fly off the hinge and attack him. Given the way her eyes were glowing like cinders, that seemed to be a likely occurrence.

"Wrong answer, _honey_!" Dodds screeched, before her skin peeled away like wet paper. A wrinkled leather hide took its place, also revealing razor-sharp claws and vicious teeth. She wailed in anger, an ear-piercing noise, before lunging at Percy.

Fortunately, his intense workout regiment had provided a few benefits. He rolled out the way, though a stray claw still snagged on his shirt, ripping it slightly. He sighed quietly. Despite his efforts, his body still could not keep up with his reflexes. However, that was an issue for another time. Right now, he had to survive this fight.

With no weapons, and his already-short limbs, this fight would be uncomfortably personal. Thankfully, Mrs. Dodds- or rather, the beast she had become- was also limited, though her reach was slightly longer. There was also the fact that, given the wings attached her back, she could probably fly. Dive-bombing was something he would have to watch out for, as well as the increased maneuverability she would have as a result.

Another demonic cry broke Percy from his musings, and he was once more forced to roll out of the way as the beast charged him again. He hopped to his feet in an instant, and had to immediately dodge once more. The beast had used its wings to arrest the momentum from its leap, stopping right beside him, and began attempting to tear him to pieces with those dangerous claws. Sharpening his focus, Percy analyzed the pattern with which it struck. The beast had a tendency to step forward with the foot on the side it would be attacking from, to give it extra power behind its blows.

Steeling himself for the possibility of failure, Percy dodged the next slash by leaning backwards slightly, leaving as little room between his face and the claws as possible. Once it had passed by, he snapped his spine straight, then lunged for the still-outstretched appendage. Grabbing onto it, he yanked the creature's left hand further to the right, causing it to stumble slightly. Taking advantage of that moment, he drove a foot into his foe's exposed knee, producing a sickening crack and a pained shriek. It dropped to its injured knee, eliciting another strangled cry, but Percy was hardly listening.

He drew back with his right arm, turning slightly to gain more power from his hips, then thrust forward a claw-shaped hand. The hand shoved its way straight into the beast's chest, causing it to choke on air in surprise. Percy kept driving onwards, not stopping until his arm was elbow-deep in the leathery chest, protruding from the beast's equally-wrinkled back. The digits were covered in crimson blood, and in his palm was a pulsing mass of muscle.

Drawing his hand back, he let his foe fall onto its back. With a flex of his hand, the beast's heart was crushed in an explosion of gore. Oddly enough, the corpse dissolved into a golden dust, not the white mist he was used to. However, he did not notice. He was much more focused on the blood splattered across his face.

Nostrils flaring, Percy inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent he had missed, had longed for, had _craved_ , for so long.

"Oh, that _smell_. The sweet scent of blood… It _sings_ to me."

Left alone in the museum, with not a soul around, the joyful laughter of Percy Jackson bounced off the marble, echoing through the halls.

Though the Dream may have crumbled, the Hunt would never be finished.


	3. Chapter 3

Making his way through the halls of the museum, Percy did not expect to come across Mr. Brunner on his journey back to the rest of the class. He wasn't exactly surprised, however. It simply seemed… Natural. Crows always flock to the carcass, after all. Along with the beasts, but that was irrelevant at the moment.

"Mr. Jackson? What are you doing in here?" Mr. Brunner asked casually, his eyes lighting up with delight. Whether it was because he had survived his encounter, or because the man was genuinely happy to see one of his favorite students, Percy could not tell. He had a gut feeling as to which one it was, though.

"I could ask the same of you, sir."

"Ah, I was just on my way to find a bathroom. It seems the… _Special_ , ones, are a fair bit elusive."

"And this has nothing to do with Mrs. Dodds?"

"Mrs. Dodds? Who is that?"

Percy fixed his Latin teacher with a withering glare.

"Nobody in particular, sir. I'll leave you to your business. I think it is best if I rejoined the class for now."

* * *

"Grover."  
"Yeah man?"

"Who is our Pre-Algebra teacher?"

"Um… Mrs. Kerr. Why?"

"It's nothing, really. I just have a bit of a hard time remembering her name, for some odd reason."

Grover had hesitated before answering.

* * *

The fruit stand across the street looked innocent enough. Fortunately, Percy had enough experience to not judge so quickly. Though the beasts normally took on grotesque, horrific forms, there was occasionally the clever one hiding behind a disguise. For example, the Suspicious Beggar. Then again, he _had_ been eating a corpse when Percy had found him, so…

The three old ladies staring at him put him on edge. They were powerful, he could tell that much, but they also seemed… Friendly? Well, he wouldn't go that far, but they didn't seem to want to brutally murder him, either. They observed him with a sort of curiosity, the kind a scientist stared at a lab rat with. For all he knew, he _was_ just a rodent to them.

The two ladies on the sides were knitting massive socks, one each, while the one in the center simply held a large basket of electric-blue yarn. They watched him with the same intensity he watched them, their deceivingly-wrinkled fingers moving the entire time with a dexterity that would likely escape people a quarter their age.

"Percy, those old ladies… Are they looking at you?"

The woman in the middle reached into the basket in her lap, then pulled out a pair of large scissors. Large enough, in fact, that Percy wouldn't hesitate to call them shears. She looked Percy straight in the eye, then snapped the shears shut on the yarn. The sharp _snip_ crossed the busy, car-ridden highway, reaching his ears.

For a reason unbeknownst to him, he shivered.

* * *

Percy waved farewell to Grover as he entered his apartment building. For some odd reason, the boy had asked to accompany him to his home, and Percy saw no reason to refuse. He had had a chance to escape after they got off the bus, when Grover went to use the bathroom, but Percy thought that would be in bad taste. Plus, the other boy looked so worried, he felt a bit guilty to have even considered the notion.

The walk had done wonders for Grover. With every block they covered on the way to his miraculously-remembered apartment in Upper East Side Manhattan, more tension seemed to melt off his friend, until Grover was finally the relaxed- if somewhat timid- boy he remembered from his time at Yancy Academy.

Opening the door to his own apartment, Percy was momentarily stunned by the atrocious smell. It assaulted his enhanced nose, and his eyes watered slightly. It was slightly amazing; he had waded through oceans of blood and stumbled through fields of corpses, but the stench of one human man managed to make him cringe.

He had forgotten about the man his mother had married. Gabe was a pig, even worse than the Man-Eating Boars of Yharnam. Fat like a walrus, and bald as a mole rat. Empty beer bottles and cigarette packages littered the floor, making walking a strenuous task. A miasma of smoke lingered in the air, blocking the dim fluorescent lights slightly. At a round table, Gabe sat, with some of his equally disgusting friends, gambling on a game of poker. They must have been irrelevant, because they didn't trigger any memories like his step-father did. Not like Gabe was actually that important, though. In fact, he slightly regretted having to remember this foul creature, but what's done is done.

"Oh, you're back. You got any cash?" Gabe asked, once he finally caught sight of Percy. He simply shook his head. Gabe raised an eyebrow.

"Sure. You probably took a taxi, paid with a twenty, and got six or seven bucks in change. Someone expects to live in this house, then they gotta pull their own weight, am I right guys?"

Percy tilted his head sideways slightly. "I walked from the bus station."

Gabe's eyes widened, before they narrowed in frustration. "Well, all the better- means you got more money for me. So fork it over, kid!"

"I don't carry money on me."

Gabe's face contorted into a fierce scowl, red rising to his face, before he decided to let it go and save his meager pride in front of his friends. "Whatever, kid. Get outta my face," he grunted. "Ungrateful brat," he added quietly. Percy heard it, but ignored it.

His bedroom was better than the living room, but only marginally. It still stank of cigars, car magazines covered most of the surfaces, and a crusty pair of muddy boots sat on the windowsill, but at least there were no worthless beasts. The open window helped, barely.

Percy dropped his suitcase on the floor, not bothering to unpack his things. He would simply take his clothes from the container as he needed them, until it was empty. For now, though, he had a mother to meet. His own, to be specific.

Hopefully, she was just as great as he remembered.

* * *

Montauk set him on edge and relaxed him at the same time. It was quite the odd sensation.

Sitting in front of the campfire, the sun setting on the horizon, Percy had plenty of time to analyze the cause of his anxiety. There was a vast amount of arcane energy swirling on the beach and in the surf, which spoke of the presence- or recent presence- of a Great One. Yet, that same energy also reacted with the well inside him. A wave of warmth washed over him, and the scent of sea salt sharpened his senses nearly imperceptibly. It was… Pleasant.

What was the link between him and this eldritch being? Was he bound to serve it, and it simply had no use for him yet? Had he been marked for death? Or…

"Mom… Can you tell me about Dad?"

* * *

Grover had hairy legs- enough to make the beast which was once Vicar Amelia feel bald.

"So… You are a satyr."

"Yeah."

"As in, one of the figures we studied in Mr. Brunner's Latin Class."

"Yeah."

"And you were disguised as a student to…"

"To find you, and protect you if any monsters found out, too. Although, I guess I didn't do a good enough job if Mrs. Dodds nearly got you." Grover looked down in shame. Percy clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"If I remember correctly, then Mrs. Dodds greatly resembled one of the Furies, the personal servants of Hades, God of the Underworld. I do not think a satyr would have been able to do anything other than provide it with a nice side dish."

"Yeah, but I should have at least _tried_!"

"There is no shame in wanting to survive. It is the basic instinct of all living beings, and can sometimes be hard to overcome in the face of a being which can strike you down with impunity."

Grover looked at him in surprise. "Yeah… I guess it is. Than-."

Lightning tore the car apart.

* * *

"This beast is the Minotaur?" Percy asked his mother. She cringed at his casual manner. They were running through the pouring rain, Percy carting Grover on his shoulder in a fireman's carry, away from a monster which shouldn't exist, and her son sounded like it was just a normal day.

"Yes... But don't call it that. Say… Pasiphae's son, instead. Names have power, Percy," she gasped, doing her best to keep up. Her baby boy was _fast_.

"The Minotaur," Percy repeated, nodding his head with finality. Sally would have sighed, if her lungs weren't already working overtime. She just settled for moving a little faster.

Finally, mother and son reached the crest of the hill with the massive pine tree, which was probably too large to be indigenous to New York. Sally stopped running, soon followed by Percy once he realized she was no longer next to him.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"I… Can't cross the barrier, Percy. I'm sorry, but this place wasn't meant for mortals." Sally's face was twisted with grief, and if the ocean wasn't falling from the sky, then he knew he would have seen the tears running down her cheeks.

"This barrier, it keeps out humans?"

Sally nodded.

"What about the beasts?"

Sally nodded again, slowly.

"Do you know where the border is?"

Sally furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "I- It's right in front of the pine tree, but why-?"  
Percy wordlessly dropped Grover to the ground in a heap, then once more walked past the pine tree to stand next to his mother.

"Percy!?" she shrieked, grabbing him by his arm. "What are you doing!? I told you-!"

Percy gently pried his mother's hand off him. "Calm yourself. Even without a weapon, the Minotaur will not best me. So long as you stay back, everything will work out in the end."

Sally wanted to protest more, but the words died in her throat, their corpses littering her tongue. Her son's calm face, barely-tense posture, and unwavering tone had convinced her of his confidence, and against her better sense, she found herself unable to refute him. For some reason, she began to believe that he might actually be fine.

The ground was shaking under mighty hoofs, and angry bellowing ripped through the sound of the storm. At the bottom of the hill, she could see the dark silhouette of the monster which threatened their lives.

Sally began to put distance between herself and Percy, desperately hoping her son was correct. Either way, they would find out soon enough.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the golden nose ring, glinting in a flash of lightning. Second was the raging red eyes, which nearly glowed in the dark. Finally, the smell hit him; rancid meat, wet fur, and excrement. The mixture was a familiar, if unpleasant, scent, which had run rampant through the streets of Yharnam.

The beast was charging at him with great speed, feet pounding heavily against the mud, massive arms swinging at its sides. With a loud roar, the Minotaur sped up even more, and Percy realized it had no intention of stopping. So, he did what any rational person would do; he stood still.

At least, until the last second, when he leapt sideways, out of the path of the beast's massive horns. The base of the horns were about as wide as his torso; had he been hit, he would have been torn clean in half. As it was, he was perfectly fine, if a bit dirty from rolling.

The Minotaur, however, was _not_. It did not have the ability to stop very easily, even in the best conditions, and the slippery mud simply added to those problems. The beast dug its hoofs into the wet ground, but continued sliding forward until it slammed face-first- or rather, horn-first- into the invisible barrier. With a great bellow, it staggered backwards, clutching its sharp protrusions in pain.

While the beast was swaying, almost drunkenly, Percy was not idle. He dashed forward, ignoring the treacherous terrain, and went straight to his foe's unguarded back. With a vicious momentum-powered kick to the back of its knee, the Minotaur went down, hard, causing the ground to shake. Percy paid this no heed, and instead jumped up onto the bent form of the half-man. WIth the angle the beast was hunched over, standing on its back was difficult, but not impossible. Grabbing onto a massive shoulder for support with his left hand, Percy drew back a claw-shaped right hand, and _struck_.

His technique had not failed him before, and this time was no different. His hand tore into the Minotaur's human flesh like a hot knife through butter, separating thick, corded muscle as if it were so much wet paper. For all its bulk, the Minotaur was not incredibly wide from front to back, therefore allowing Percy to reach its heart without having to go all the way up to his shoulder in its torso. Without ceremony, Percy drew back his hand, taking a heart the size of his head out along with it. He immediately dropped off the Minotaur's back.

WIth a final, confused "Moo?", the beast dissolved into golden dust, which glinted in a flash of lightning before being scattered by the hurricane-force winds.

Flexing his hand, Percy crushed the large heart in his hands effortlessly. He grinned ferally when the thick, crimson liquid scattered across his face. After a few moments, it sunk into his skin, invigorating him. A few memories flashed through his mind, of a woman whose face was contorted in disgust, centuries spent wandering a maze, a seemingly simple man finally defeating him, and a place that could only be described as Hell. Shaking away the images, Percy began to walk over to where he had left his mother.

She was lying on the ground in a heap, similarly to how Grover was when he was dropped. Percy panicked, rushing over, and quickly checking for a pulse and if she was breathing. Her heart beat strongly, and from the way her chest rose and fell evenly, Percy could tell she had simply passed out (it was difficult to feel for something as weak as human breathing, considering the strong winds buffeting him). Perhaps from the shock of watching her only child go face-to-face… Or rather, face-to-pelvis, with a beast which should, by all means, be a simple myth, had gotten to her. She was only a normal human, so she could not be faulted for her faint-heartedness. That did beg the question, however; why was more surprised by the _appearance_ of the Minotaur, as opposed to its very _existence_?

Queries for another time, such as when she was awake. Percy gently scooped his mother up in his arms. She was a fair bit heavier than Grover, but still not too burdensome. Percy walked back to the massive pine tree, where he left Grover, who seemed to be stirring now. The cold rain and crashing thunder must have shocked him awake.

"Food… Percy!?" Grover cried, once he realized where he was. The satyr shot up, glancing around wildly. Percy could just barely make out the way his friends pupils were now horizontal slits. Grover called out a few more times, clambering to his feet hurriedly, before Percy finally took pity on him.

"I'm fine, Grover," he told the boy, shouting loud enough to be heard over the storm. Grover whirled around, and when he caught sight of his friend, sighed heavily.

"Oh thank the Gods- wait, what happened to Sally!?"

"Nothing, really. I think she just passed out from shock. What do we do now?"

"Wait, what happened to the- the…?"

"The Minotaur?" Grover nodded frantically. "I killed it. I'm pretty sure it dropped something, but my hands are kind of full. Think you could go get it for me?"

Grover stared at his friend with something akin to awe at the casual way he mentioned killing one of the most bloodthirsty monsters in Greek legends. He nodded dumbly, then followed Percy to where the beast breathed its last. Indeed, lying on the ground was a pair of horns, the very same that had adorned the Minotaur's head mere minutes ago.

"The spoils of war…" Grover breathed reverently. He stooped down and grasped them lightly, mindful of the edges. With how loose his grip was, Percy almost believed his friend was scared of them.

"These belong to you now, you should take…" Grover started, before remembering that his friend was currently occupied. He smiled sheepishly. "Right. I'll hold on to these until your hands aren't full.

Percy nodded, smirking in amusement, before the reality of the situation finally came crashing back in. "Where do we go now? I have to get my mom out of the rain- she's a normal human, she'll get sick."

"Oh, right! I _knew_ I was forgetting something," Grover cried, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Well, follow me." Percy acquiesced, falling into step behind his friend. "That massive pine tree marks the border of Camp Half-Blood, and is also the source of the border that keeps out monsters and mortals alike."

"Will we be able to get my mother through?" Percy asked worriedly, glancing down at the woman in his arms. She seemed peaceful enough, but the circumstances which led to this situation definitely were not.

"Yeah, no problem. Unauthorized beings can enter Camp so long as they're invited, and with me here, it's basically the same thing."

Percy nodded, relieved.

"At the bottom of Half-Blood Hill is the Big House," Grover continued, "And that's where we'll be going. It's literally just a big, white house- hence, the Big House. There, we can get your mom out of the storm, and into a nice bed. Although, we'll probably have to stop by the infirmary in the morning to make sure that all of us are okay. Speaking of which, the infirmary is run by the children of Apollo, since, you know, God of _Healing_. And a bunch of other things."

Grover didn't realize his friend had stopped walking alongside him until he glanced sideways and was met with darkness.

"Percy?" Grover called to his friend, concerned at the sudden pause.

"The _children_ of _Apollo_? As in, the Greek God of the Sun, Healing, and Prophecies?"

"Yeah…? Oh- oh my Gods- you didn't know!? And- and you killed a Kindly One and the _Minotaur!?_ " Grover shrieked, reverting to his panicked mindset.

"Nobody ever bothered to explain this to me, so I just went with the flow," Percy replied, shrugging.

"And you didn't _ask_!? I just… _Assumed_ you knew…"

"Well, assumptions do tend to lead to all sorts of unpleasant misunderstandings."

"Yeah, I guess they do… I'll have to remember to tell Chiron to show you the orientation film. Not that it'll be much use, but there's still some stuff there that should help you get around Camp."

"Chiron? Orientation film?"

Grover pursed his lips, unsure what to say next. "You'll figure it out once we get to the Big House. Speaking of which, there it is!" Grover pointed at what was, indeed, a _Big House_. It was three stories tall, and a fair bit wider than the entirety of Percy's apartment building.

Percy had to crane his neck a bit to see the top of the building, and would soon come to regret his decision. On the third floor, a single window was visible on the front of the house. It was circular, portioned into four panes by a cross, and seemingly covered by a purple curtain.

Lightning flashed, and Percy could see a vaguely human-shaped head peering at him from around the curtain, with glowing emerald eyes that pierced him to his core. Lighting struck once more, revealing that the figure on the third floor had vanished behind the drapes once more.

That did nothing to reassure the boy. He knew, without a doubt, that this being was far more important than it seemed. The question was, how?

And why did it send his blood into a frenzy?

* * *

 **For those who are curious, yes, this is a Bloodborne crossover. I just didn't label it as such, because more people would find it if it was just listed under PJO.**


	4. Chapter 4

"...Mr. Brunner? You are a centaur?" Percy asked, staring at the fusion between his Latin teacher and a white stallion.

"Indeed, Percy. Though, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I am no _ordinary_ centaur. A hint; my name is not actually Mr. Brunner," The centaur said kindly, smiling pleasantly.

"...Chiron? The legendary trainer of heroes? Who should be well over three thousand years old?" Percy remembered what Grover had said on their walk down Half-Blood Hill.

Chiron's smile turned slightly pained. "Right on all accounts, Mr. Jackson- well done. However, I do wish you wouldn't mention my age, it is quite a sensitive topic…"

"My apologies, sir," Percy said, bowing his head slightly.

"Quite alright, my boy. Now, how about we discuss your journey here? It does not seem to have been easy, if the state of your mother and your clothes are anything to go by."

"It has been handled."

Chiron chuckled. "Yes, I see that, my boy, but that does not exactly tell me _how_."

"The Minotaur attempted to kill me, so I slaughtered it."

Chiron's head reared back in shock, his tail twitching. "W-Well, you certainly do not sugarcoat things, Mr. Jackson," he muttered, his laughter becoming uneasy. "Is that how your mother ended up unconscious? It injured her?"

"No, she simply passed out."

"Then I will have the Apollo campers check over her once she wakes. On a related note, how do _you_ feel? Would you like to take a trip to the infirmary?"

"No, I believe sleep will suffice. I did not receive any wounds, merely exhausted myself."

"That is good. Then, I believe our business for tonight is over. Any of the rooms in the Big House should be free, with the exception of the one at the base of the stairs, which is currently occupied by your mother. Oh, and Mr. Jackson?"

Percy looked over from where he had turned away, ready to seek out an empty bed.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

* * *

The orientation film was more informative than Grover had believed. The rudimentary explanation of the Greek world vastly increased Percy's meager knowledge of the subject, and also gave him an idea of how to navigate this new home of his- he would not be returning to his old apartment if he could help it, not while that disgusting beast was still there.

Things began to click into place. He was a demigod, meaning that one of his parents- in this case, his father- had divine powers, some of which Percy would be able to access. Apparently, it was the parent that claimed the child in most cases, and usually whenever they had proven themselves worthy. Had anyone known of his time as a Hunter of the Dream, then it is likely that he would have been claimed long ago.

Regardless, he had an advantage, since he was a bit more sensitive to arcane energies than other half-bloods, and therefore felt the way it reacted positively to the presence of sea water. Therefore, it was likely that Percy was descended from a sea god. The only question was, which one?

If he remembered correctly from Mr. Brunner's Latin class (which seemed to be less about language and more about Greek mythology), then there were numerous gods for each element. For example, one of Zeus' elements was wind, which was also shared with four others, and then some. He likely wouldn't be the child of a nature spirit, despite the fact that they were considered gods as well, since their children tended to be nature gods themselves, or half-animals, such as satyrs.

Off the top of his head, Poseidon was the only sea god Percy could name, as well as Poseidon's son Triton. He would have to ask around, to see just how many there were, before he figured out who his godly parent was. That, or he was claimed, which worked just as well.

He would have to get to work, then.

* * *

"So, you're the one that killed the Minotaur?" a blonde girl asked him. She had her arms crossed, and seemed unimpressed with her first look at him.

"Yes."

The blonde girl raised an eyebrow at him, then glanced at the two horns hanging from his belt, where they were secured with two custom holsters, courtesy of the Hephaestus Cabin- a welcoming gift, of sorts.

Apparently, she had found what she came looking for, because she walked away without another word. She never gave him her name, and didn't ask him his, either.

From this moment on, she would be dubbed 'Blonde-Hair.'

* * *

Staring at the lake was not helping. He had tried to exert his will over the water, but only got far enough to be aware of it with his sixth, arcane, sense. This may have had something to do with the fact that, whenever Percy used arcane energy, he typically had a focus of some sort in hand. It seemed to be much more difficult to call upon it in a raw state.

Watching him skeptically was Luke Castellan, the leader of the Hermes Cabin, and therefore his new cabin counsellor. The justification for stuffing all those people in the Hermes Cabin was a bit weak, when they could have just built another cabin for the unclaimed. It wasn't like they didn't have a massive forest nearby with which to gather building materials, and the children of Hephaestus, the forge god. They should have been able to easily get the job done.

Either way, it was not Percy's job to criticize the rules, so he took his place on the floor, alongside twenty other kids.

"Uh, Percy, you _sure_ you know what you're doing?" Luke asked, bemused at the younger boy's lack of success.

"No."

Luke's face shifted into a mixture of amusement at the blunt answer, and annoyance at having his time wasted.

"Well, then you can do this in your free time. Right now, the Hermes Cabin has archery practice. The Apollo kids get kinda irritated when people show up late and interrupt."

* * *

Percy could handle a bow. It just sucked. A lot.

"...Are you even _trying_ to hit the target?" Michael Yew asked, staring at the arrow which had gone ten feet above the target.

"Yes."

Michael just sighed. There was nothing he could really do- the kid's stance and breathing were perfect, and the bow seemed to be lined up, but the arrow simply would _not_ go straight.

"Just… Keep trying, I guess," Michael said, walking away to chat with some of the more competent archers.

Percy longed for his Evelyn.

* * *

"So, _yer_ the punk that killed the Minotaur?" a large, brunette girl asked him. This seemed oddly familiar, except this time, the interrogator was not alone, and seemed more derisive than Blonde-Hair. Since the girl seemed to be the leader, she was likely the only one worth remembering. Therefore, she was now Brown-Hair.

"Yes."

Brown-Hair bared her teeth at him in the facsimile of a smile, before crossing her arms.

"You sure? No way a runt like _you_ could've taken down something like that. Minotaur probably died from laughing so hard 'cause ya looked so stupid."

Her minions laughed and jeered, clapping each other then pointing at Percy, as if they were trying to get the focus of the group back on the matter at hand, despite it never wavering.

Percy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion- what was the point of this? Were these people the same as Red-Hair from Yancy Academy? He would've figured that the children of _gods_ would be above such childish behavior. Then again, nobody in this particular group looked to be much older than himself, and he was twelve. It was somewhat difficult to tell, considering the lack of baby fat on the cheeks and their large statures- both due to physical labor/exercise- but he could see it in their eyes. Either they had been sheltered, or they simply had not yet lived long enough to see true horror, and mature through the experience.

Regardless of their maturity, or lack thereof, they were inconsequential. Percy stepped around the group, heading to join up with the rest of the Hermes Cabin for their canoeing class, a particularly relaxing moment in these dull days. However, it seemed Brown-Hair had other ideas.

"Hey!" she growled, slamming a hand onto his shoulder. "You tryin' to run, punk?"

"I have things to do."

Brown-Hair twitched at the obvious dismissal. "Oh yeah, you _definitely_ got things to do- like gettin' yer head dunked in the toilet! C'mon, let's give this punk the initiation ceremony."

Her goons closed in, and Percy exhaled a silent sigh, quietly centering himself. He lashed out quickly, slamming a foot into the back of Brown-Hair's knee, causing her to drop into a kneel. An uppercut jammed her teeth together, forcing her eyes into the back of her head. The girl slumped to the ground, unconscious, with blood dripping from her bitten tongue. The other teens glanced at each other in surprise, before turning hateful glares on Percy. All five moved forward, though they attacked in an uncoordinated fashion.

Goon 1 threw a picture-perfect cross, which was so incredibly telegraphed Percy dodged it by a hair, allowing it to graze his cheek, before retaliating with a slug to the gut, doubling him over. A knee to the nose left the boy in a bloody mess on the ground, much like his leader.

Goon 2 attempted to slam an uppercut into his chin, only to find his hand caught in an iron grip. With a tug, Goon 2 was yanked into the path of a jab from Goon 3, spinning his jaw and sending him to the dirt, hard. Goon 3 was a bit too stunned, and she didn't anticipate the fist that jammed her nose sideways, the force of it knocking her out.

Goon 4 was taken aback by the quick takedowns of his buddies, and his hesitance cost him. He didn't put his guard up fast enough, and a roundhouse kick to the chin locked his jaw.

Goon 5 charged with a reckless shout of anger, swinging wildly with a wide hook. Percy leaned in, pushing both fists into his opponent's stomach. When she was doubled over, a sideswipe to the face with a sharp elbow put her out of commission. Finally, the sixth member of the group was left, simply because they had yet to rush the twelve-year-old. For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other, before Goon 6 took a step back, slowly putting his hands up.

Breathing out through his nose, Percy loosened up his limbs, falling out of his fighting stance, which involved a strong base with no guard, leaving his hands free to fly up from any unconventional angle. Like now, for instance, when Goon 6 attempted to launch a surprise attack, bringing a foot up for a throat-kick. Catching his ankle, Percy mercilessly slammed a fist into the boy's knee, bending the joint sideways. Before Goon 6 could even scream, Percy leapt forward, grabbing him by the face, and bashing the back of his head into the packed dirt below. The blow to the soft spot of his head knocked the final antagonizer out, and Percy finally allowed himself to truly relax.

"Well, that was… Interesting." Blonde-Hair. What was she doing here? "I thought you might need some help, but it looks like you've got things handled." Oh. She sounded rather neutral, but her marginally-widened eyes exposed her shock. Percy observed her for a moment, then simply turned away and continued on his previous path.

"Hey! Come back here!" Percy kept walking. "Wait! I want to talk to you!"

Percy sighed, and finally stopped moving. "I happen to be busy. Can it wait?"

"No, not really. First off, what's your name?"

Percy just stared blankly at her.

"Uh… Alright. Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

More staring. Blonde-Hair was getting irritated, judging by the crease in her eyebrows. "Are you gonna answer me!?"

"Get to the point, or I'm leaving."

"The _point_ is that I want answers!"

"Goodbye."

Blonde-Hair's growl of rage sounded remarkably like a beast of Yharnam, and for a moment, Percy had to force himself to remember he was walking on a grassy hill instead of a bloody cobblestone street. He would _not_ whip around and slice deep in Blonde-Hair's flesh with his blade (which he didn't even have anymore), would _not_ remove her head from her shoulders, and most _definitely_ would not partake in her sweet, sweet blood. Shaking himself out of the lapse in sanity, he kept moving.

* * *

Evening, after classes. Percy met up with Grover a few hours before dinner. Apparently, the satyr had been sent to retrieve him. For what, he wouldn't say. However, it became obvious when Grover led him to the porch of the Big House, where Chiron, Blonde-Hair, and a portly man were waiting for him.

Grover leaned over to him. "That's Mr. D," he said, gesturing at the rotund man, " He's the camp director, so be polite. That's Annabeth," he pointed at Blonde-Hair, "She's a normal camper, but she's been at Camp for longer than most. And you already know Chiron." The centaur, sitting in his magic wheelchair at the moment, waved genially, then went back to the card game which Mr. D hadn't even looked up from.

"Ah, Mr. Jackson, wonderful of you to stop by!" Chiron cried, spreading his arms wide. He was careful to tilt his hand of cards away from the watching hands of Mr. D. "Now we have four for pinochle! Both of you, sit, sit!" Percy sat to the right of Mr. D, and Grover opposite him. There was a long moment of silence, filled by Chiron's steady stare, before Mr. D finally sighed.

"Oh, I suppose I better say it, before this old horse talks my ear off. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, brat. Don't think for a second that I'm glad to see you."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Mr. D snorted. "Hmph. Of course you wouldn't- if I'm right, you probably wouldn't want to ever _dream_ again. Tell me, boy; why do you reek of blood?"

Percy stiffened slightened, more than a bit concerned by the emphasis put on the word _dream_. No way could this man know… Could he? Percy decided to err on the side of caution with his response, hoping he could irritate the man enough to get him off the topic.

"Oh, I don't know, sir. Perhaps because my veins are full of it?"

For the first time, Mr. D looked Percy in the eyes, and the boy was nearly drawn into the depths of those purple pupils. As it was, he just snapped his head to the side, breathing noticeably louder.

"You know that is not what I meant." Percy remained silent, keeping his gaze to the ground despite Grover's insistent nudging. After a long moment, the pudgy man sighed. A scraping of plastic against wood indicated that he had pushed his chair back, his heavy feet falling loudly on the porch. "Walk with me, Perseus Jackson."

"Now, Mr. D, surely Mr. Jackson has not offended you-?"

"He hasn't. Calm your beard, you old horse. I'm merely… _Curious_. Come along, Jackson- I don't like to be kept waiting."

The authority in his voice left no room for denial, and Percy reluctantly rose. He ignored Grover's hyperventilating, and Blonde… _Annabeth's_ audible confusion. Chiron was simply staring at him solemnly. Percy followed Mr. D off the porch of the Big House, and down to the vineyard, silent the whole while. The stout man began the conversation, seeing as it was obvious that the boy would not.

"You know, these grapes make for a good source of income. They draw on my powers, growing larger, more juicy than anything a mortal could produce. If I could, I'd squeeze every single one of these suckers into wine, but alas! My father has banned me from drinking even a drop of alcohol so long as I am the director of Camp Half-Blood… But I'm not here to talk to you about grapes or my punishment. I'm here to talk to you, _about_ you. So, care to answer my question from earlier?"

Percy opened his mouth, then paused. How could he possibly explain this away? Why did this _Mr. D_ even have any idea about this stuff?

As if reading his mind, Mr. D cleared his throat. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear enough. I'll rephrase; why do you smell of the _old_ blood?"

And with the addition of that one word, all of Percy's doubts were blown away. Mr. D knew of the Old Blood, the Great Ones, the _Dream_. His head was spinning- could this man be in the same situation as him? A Hunter, trapped in the body of a person from another world? Those thoughts dissipated when he once more locked eyes with the short man, feeling the insanity in those purple wells tugging at his soul, whipping his blood into a maddened frenzy. Gasping, Percy leapt backwards, reaching for a weapon he no longer had.

" _Amygdala."_


	5. Chapter 5

"Right in one, boy. Quite the sharp eye you have there- what gave it away?"

"The Amygdala is the only one that can stir the blood into a frenzy this quickly. Other than the Brain of Mensis and the Winter Lanterns, of course." Despite his steady voice, Percy was wound tighter than a spring, ready to launch himself at the Great One at any moment. Without a weapon, it would surely be suicide, but that was a slightly more attractive prospect than simply allowing the beast to tear him to shreds.

"Do relax, Jackson," Mr. D said, rolling his eyes. "If I were going to kill you, I would have done it, not dragged you all the way out here."

Percy, obviously, did not relax. As with all the Great Ones, the Amygdala had been a vicious opponent, sending him back to the Dream several times, where he awoke to the gentle ministrations of the Plain Doll. There was no telling how it had changed; the human form could just be the start.

"How did you get here? Are you the only Great One in this world?"

"I have always been here, foolish boy. Did you _honestly_ believe you could truly kill a Great One? We are called immortal for a reason. Although, that is mostly due to our ability to reincarnate, which is what I am- a reincarnation. As for the others… Well, that would be telling. I will say one thing, however; in this life, I am not your enemy, Hunter. If you are going to survive, you must be willing to rely on me, for I am currently the only one who understands your situation, and therefore the only one who knows how to help you integrate into these worlds you now find yourself torn between."

Percy finally stood straight, though more out of confusion than actually trusting Mr. D. "What worlds do you speak of?"

"The mortal world, and the world of gods. You've gotten a taste of the former, when you went to that private academy, but you have yet to be _properly_ introduced to the latter. After all, your father hasn't even claimed you."

"My father? What do you know about my father?"

"I know that, due to the Ancient Laws, it is absolutely impossible for him to have visited you in the mortal world. Now that you're in Camp Half-Blood, you might be able to see him every once in a while, but even then, there is no guarantee. I also happen to know _who_ your father is."

"What? Who!?"

"I won't tell you that - he would be rather cross with me. In this life, he is much more powerful than me, though I think that has always been the case. It would be in poor taste to anger him. No, you'll have to wait until he claims you to know for sure."

"Then… Will you at least tell me if he is a God of the Sea? The water is the only thing in this world that I have felt a connection with, the only thing the arcane energy within me reacts to."

Mr. D raised an eyebrow, marginally astounded. "Well, it seems you are much sharper than I initially believed- though, considering how quickly you uncovered my identity, I suppose I shouldn't be very surprised. Yes, he is a God of the Sea. However, there are many ocean gods out there, any of which could be your father. As I said, you won't know for sure until he claims you."

Percy nodded slowly, his face carefully blank to hide the turmoil in his mind. Apparently, it was no use with Mr. D.

"I said to calm yourself, boy. I can see the insanity building in your eyes."

Blinking, Percy took a deep breath to center himself, then forcefully locked his raging thoughts into a dark recess of his mind to be dealt with later. Mr. D nodded, letting Percy know he had succeeded, and the portly man turned to walk back to the Great House. After a moment of hesitation, Percy followed. He couldn't help but note the irony of his current situation. Before, he had fought the Amygdala to the death, and now, it was helping him? He snorted quietly at how messed up things were. Then again, after having lived through the nightmare that was Yharnam countless times, it would take a lot more than an old enemy-turned-ally to break him.

* * *

Dinner was an odd affair. For some reason, the campers had lined up, and were ritualistically sacrificing half their plate of food into the fire. This was probably how communion with the Great Ones had started; simple offerings, in exchange for minor blessings. How it ended, though...

Percy refused to partake in such vile depravity, something which Grover heavily recommended against. Surprisingly, it was Mr. D that spoke up in his defense.

"If the boy wants to eat, let him eat. Not like he'd pray to one of us, anyways."

Grover, and the other campers of the Hermes Cabin, left him alone after that. However, they were noticeably wary of him now, even going so far as to ensure he didn't get a place at their table. Were they worried the gods would strike him down for this perceived insolence? Regardless, Percy just walked over to the next closest table, and sat right down.

"Percy!" Grover cried, drawing attention from the entire pavilion, which had gone rather silent after his refusal. Pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth, Percy looked up at the satyr, who was pale as paper. He wasn't the only one; many of the other campers looked rather fearful. Glancing around, Percy just did not see what the issue was. So, he asked.

"What?"

"Y-you can't s-sit there!"

"...Why?"

"That's Poseidon's table! Only his children are allowed to be there!"

At that moment, a sea-green light tinted his vision. Looking up, Percy found the source to be a holographic trident, which hovered above his forehead for a few moments, before slowly fading out of sight. When Percy looked away from the lightshow, he found that all the campers, who had previously been seated and enjoying their dinners, were now kneeling on the stone floor, heads bowed. Even Chiron was bent at the knee, as best as his horse half could be.

"Hail, Perseus Jackson!" Chiron bellowed, "Son of the Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses- the Sea God. Hail, the son of Poseidon!" The campers slammed their fists over their hearts, the hollow _thump_ reverberating through the pavillion.

"...Do I still have to move?"

* * *

Moving into the Poseidon Cabin was one of the highlights of these past two days, aside from visits with his mother in the Infirmary. She had finally been released and went home, with the help of Argus, the many-eyed man who drove her out to Manhattan. Unfortunately, that meant going back to Gabe, but Sally was so fiercely independent that she stubbornly refused to accept the Camp's hospitality for much longer after she returned to full health. For all her good points, his mother sometimes did not have the best ideas.

Regardless, Cabin Three managed to take his mind off her. This building had a fairly low roof compared to the other cabins, and far less beds- Percy only saw six. Apparently, even back when Poseidon wasn't bound by the oath (which Percy learned about in the orientation video), he did not have many meetings with mortal women. The sea-green trim and greywood gave the building a rustic feel, and the scent of sea salt embedded in the grain, along with the sea breeze blowing in from the Long Island Sound, truly completed the image. For the first time in a long while, Percy finally allowed himself to relax. Here, he was alone. There were no worries about his close proximity to dozens of other young adults in the Hermes Cabin, no nagging Blonde-Hair, no violent Brown-Hair, no worrying satyr, and most of all, no beasts. He had been unable to relax in Yancy, considering how completely foreign the place was. He was constantly expecting to fall asleep one night, only to wake back up in Yharnam, or the Dream. Ironically enough, though, Percy hasn't had a single dream since he came to this world. It was a blessing, to finally be free of the nightmares.

That didn't mean he was free of the Old Blood, however. There were moments when Percy caught himself flashing back to the gothic streets of Yharnam, breathing heavily as beasts closed in from all sides. The transformed citizens of the city were bearing down upon him with their clubs and torches, their guns and molotovs, all while the Blood Moon hung menacingly above. Watching. Waiting.

Then, the moment would pass, and he would snap back to reality (if this new world was even reality in the first place) to find those in the immediate vicinity staring at the growling, panting boy. Gathering his composure in an instant, he would leave without a word, heading to the beach. The arcane well deep within him shifted with the sea, ebbing and flowing in time with the tide. His breathing would sync up with the rhythm, and for as long as he stood at the edge of the beach, where the land met the water and the world turned blue, he would find true peace.

Then, something would happen- someone would come calling for him, the conch horn sounded for the scheduled meal, or, on one occasion, a bird crapped on his shoulder, and he would snap out of his trance. Still, despite the interruption, Percy couldn't find it in him to be mad. In fact, he couldn't find it in him to feel anything at all. His mind still fixated on the rolling waves, his body would move on autopilot, and carry on through the day.

* * *

Friday. Capture the Flag. Percy allied the Poseidon Cabin with the Hermes Cabin, and by extension, the Athena Cabin. Both because he didn't want to be on the same team as Brown-Hair and the Ares Cabin, and because Luke, the leader of his previous cabin, asked him to. Despite only being there for less than a week, Percy felt he owed Luke this much. Besides, it was just a game.

In the Dining Pavilion, after the empty plates were cleared away by the various nymphs, Chiron stamped a hoof against the marble to gain the attention of the chatting campers.

"Heroes!" he boomed, "You know the rules; no maiming or killing! This is a _friendly_ game!" He glared pointedly at the Ares campers, who scowled back. "The creek is the boundary line, and the whole forest is fair game. Remember, the banner must be prominently displayed the _whole_ game, and can have no more than two guards." Here, he fixed a meaningful stare on Blonde-Hair, who looked down with a sheepish blush. Apparently, she'd broken this rule recently. "All magic items are allowed. Prisoners may be disarmed, but not bound or gagged. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Now, arm yourselves!"

With a wave of his hands, the dinner tables were littered with weapons, armor, and shields of all kinds. The campers scrambled to pick up their equipment, with Percy the only one left to stare at the remnants. Luke jogged over and clapped him on the shoulder.

"C'mon, Perce, gear up! You can't play Flag without any armor!"

"Armor will just slow me down."

Luke stared at the shorter boy for a long moment, before conceding the point. "I mean, if that's what you want. You gotta at least grab a weapon, though."

Percy nodded slowly, eyeing the blades covering the Poseidon table. Finally, he reached out to a two-handed bastard sword with a five-foot long blade. Weighing it carefully, he found he was barely able to hold it in one hand- just enough to swing it around with a halfway-decent amount of control. At the very least, he would be able to adjust his course mid-swing to avoid a vital spot. Performing a few test waves, Percy deemed the weapon passable, and dropped the sword to his side, where the blade dragged against the marble.

"Uh, Percy, you sure you don't wanna grab something a little more… Usable?"

"Trick weapons are rarely designed with speed in mind."

"...What?"

"I will manage." Percy walked away, wearing only his jeans, tattered navy-blue sweater, and ratty Converse sneakers, the bastard sword sparking on the stone below him.

"Um… Okay?"

* * *

It seemed the Athena Cabin was only allied with Apollo and Hermes. As to be expected, the Apollo campers alternated between long-range support and battlefield medics, while the Hermes campers were a bit more diverse. Scouts, close-range, trappers, distractions, and more. It was as if they were putting the "all trades" part of their patron's title to the test. Of course, the strategizing was left to the Athena Cabin, led by Blonde-Hair. Otherwise, they mostly stuck to close-range combat.

This all meant Percy would be facing the combined might of the Dionysus, Demeter, Hephaestus, Ares, and Aphrodite cabins. Each was few in numbers, but together, they would likely be a formidable force, with a wide range of skills. Well, maybe not the Aphrodite campers, but the point still stood.

Once more, Luke approached Percy. "Hey, man. You sure you don't want any armor? It's not too late, Chiron pointed out a set that might fit you."

"I am fine. More importantly, what is expected of me?"

"Ah… I think Annabeth said you're on border patrol? Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention to the joblist, since I was trying to control my little brothers." He gestured to the equally-impish twins, Travis and Connor Stoll, who were grinning like they'd just pulled off a heist. Almost unconsciously, Percy patted his jean pockets, despite knowing there was nothing in them in the first place. Even though he'd only been in that cabin for a few days, the Stoll twins had made their talents very well-known to the newbie. Luke saw the instinctual reaction and chuckled. "Yeah, they get a bit rowdy sometimes. Anyways, you probably don't even know what border patrol is! Sorry. All you gotta do is stand by the creek, and stop any enemies from crossing over to their side. You can tell who's who by the color of the plume on their helmet; we're blue, Ares is red. Speaking of which, you aren't wearing a helmet."

"Wearing a helmet was not in the rules that Chiron listed. I believe it is more of a guideline."

Luke blinked. "...Well, when you put it like that, then I guess you're right. Eh, it'll just make it harder on the other team. Everyone here knows who you are and what you look like, so it should be fine. Then again, the other team probably would, too; the only Son of Poseidon, as well as the only kid playing the game without any armor? Yeah, it's kinda obvious who you are."

Percy nodded, and began walking in the direction the blond pointed him.

 _This task seems rather… Bland. The importance of it can be debated, though I doubt it is truly necessary. After all, with an entire creek as the boundary, an enemy can simply sneak past me by going around. There is no way we have enough people to create a tight net that will catch all enemies, so this job seems rather arbitrary. Then again, I have just arrived here less than a week ago. It is expected that they would give me such menial work, to determine my usefulness. Still, this is rather annoying._

While Percy continued to ponder the worthlessness of his current post, he heard a branch snap from within the bushes in front of him. Switching his focus from his thoughts to the outside world, Percy glanced around, seeing nobody in the immediate vicinity. However, that changed when a troupe of enemies burst from the foliage, screaming bloody war cries, weapons held high over their heads.

Six in total, seemingly led by Brown-Hair, who was wielding a lengthy spear. The metal tip crackled, indicating that it was charged with electricity. Was Bolt Paper a thing in this world? That would be useful.

"Cream the punk!" Brown-Hair roard, her deep voice bouncing through the forest. Immediately, the six moved to surround him in a circles. Two charged him from the front. Grunt 1 stabbed high with his spear, while Grunt 2 swung low with her sword. Percy planted the bastard sword into the ground, deflecting the blade, while ducking under the spear. With the weapon still extended, Percy grabbed the shaft, yanking Grunt 1 forward to plant a fist in their stomach with so much force that an imprint was left in the hardened leather.

Percy was a bit confused; he knew, logically, that as a demigod, he was much stronger than a normal mortal. As a Son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three, that effect was likely compounded. However, he did not think it would _that_ drastic, especially not with such a small body, disregarding the training he had done before coming to Camp Half-Blood. Then, he realized something; his blood was singing. This only happened when he was drenched in blood, the constant flow of crimson sinking into his skin repeatedly revitalizing him.

He couldn't feel the sticky ichor on his body, but he _could_ feel the cold chill of the river water sinking into his sneakers. He had stepped into the creek at some point. Percy concluded that, due to his status as the Son of Poseidon, the water was giving him strength. It seemed like he was also much more perceptive, much to the frustration of Grunt 3, who attempted to attack from behind.

Percy gripped the handle of the bastard sword, ripping it from the ground and parrying Grunt 3's double-handed overhead sword swing in one smooth motion, knocking their weapon off course. It slammed into the water, and a moment later, the hilt of Percy's sword slammed into Grunt 3's head. They fell to the ground at the same time as Grunt 1, who had remained standing for a moment, hunched over, spewing their dinner into the creek.

Grunt 4 was hesitant to approach, but Grunt 2 seemed miffed at being blocked so casually, then ignored. She let loose another battle cry, then attempted a wide swing, her aim to bisect him at the waist. Percy slammed his blade down onto hers, his increased strength and the weight of the bastard sword sending her weapon straight into the pebbles and dirt that made up the floor of the creek. A high-kick straight to the chest nearly imploded their diaphragm, and Grunt 2 staggered back, struggling to breathe. As the battle continued, she would eventually lose the battle with oxygen-deprivation, blacking out and slumping to the dirt on the bank of the creek.

Finally, Grunts 4 and 5 seemed to gather their nerve. They both rushed forward with swords, slashing at him from opposite directions. Percy rolled forward to stand in the space between the two of them, smirking a bit when their blades collided with the other. An uppercut to Grunt 4's chin knocked them out instantly, while Grunt 5 got a nice knee to the dick. He collapsed, cheeks puffed out and hands cupping his groin. After a moment, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he let out a wheezing breath, ominously similar to the death rattles of the Beasts of Yharnam.

Brown-Hair was the only one left, brandishing her electrified spear, but seemingly hesitant to approach. She adjusted her grip on the wooden haft, intensifying her glare.

"You little _punk!"_ she seethed, still not making any move to approach. Percy hefted his bastard sword, laying the blade flat against his shoulder.

"Care to try your hand? If I remember correctly, it did not end well for you last time," Percy goaded. He was rewarded by Brown-Hair screaming in fury, jumping forward to jab at his torso. Percy sidestepped, then swung his bastard sword down, the movement sped up by his boost from the water. The blade cleaved clean through the shaft, and Brown-Hair was left staring at a glorified stick.

"You-!"

She was interrupted by a fist to the temple. Percy ignored the metal that bit into his knuckles, too satisfied by the ringing of bronze through the clearing as Brown-Hair dropped, unconscious. Percy stabbed his massive blade into the riverbed, and simply surveyed his work, massaging the back of his hand.

"You can come out now."

Blonde-Hair- _Annabeth-_ appeared from thin air. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I can sense the arcane energies of your… Hat."

Annabeth slapped her Yankees cap against her thigh. "What? How?"

Percy stayed silent. In truth, he didn't really know why. Perhaps it was due to his dealings with the Great Ones? Constant contact with them would likely make anyone sensitive to the essence of the Cosmos.

Annabeth snarled at his avoidance. "You are the _single_ most infuriating person I know, and you've only been here for a week!"

"I do my best," Percy muttered, attention drawn by a sudden pool of arcane energy appearing. It felt… Familiar. Similar to the dark, overbearing presence of the Nightmare of Mensis, but less concentrated, weaker.

Moments later, Luke appeared from the forest, sprinting like a madman. He was pursued by a squad of people wearing red-plumed helmets, but Hermes was known as the fastest god on Olympus for a reason. Luke was at least twenty steps ahead of them, and by the time the red team reached the river bank, Luke was already across. Cheering ensued, and members of the blue team swarmed Luke, hoisting him up onto their shoulders.

Beside him, Annabeth smirked. "Come on, Jackson. Let's go celebrate."

Percy ignored her. He was straining his senses, doing his best to block out the noise of the other demigods. He stared off into the black forest, eyes boring holes through the shade. Suddenly, two crimson lights appeared, staring right back at him.

Annabeth had been shoving Percy's shoulder, when he shoved back, hard. She stumbled back a good five steps, crying out indignantly. Percy barely had time to wrench his bastard sword out of the ground before a massive beast, a dog with fur the color of the blackest night, leaped out of the brush. Percy rolled to the left, avoiding the gargantuan paws that threatened to kill him from sheer size alone, then swung up with his blade, decapitating the monster in one fell swoop. Without so much as a whimper, the beast melted into shadows, leaking into the ground.

Percy stood to his feet, noticing how quiet the forest was now. He turned to Annabeth, whose eyes were blown wide open in shock. "That beast- what was it?"

"T-that was a _hellhound!_ Those aren't supposed to be able to get into Camp!"

"If it can't get into the camp on its own, then it must have been aided, somehow. Summoned?"

"I, maybe? It _is_ possible to summon monsters, but why-?"

"Has something like this happened before?" Percy asked. Annabeth shook her head, blond curls flying wildly. Percy planted his sword into the ground beneath his spread feet, resting his hands on the pommel like a paladin of old.

"For it to occur the same day I was claimed, mere hours afterwards...Perhaps this was an indirect attempt to strike at Poseidon. Which gods hold grudges against my father?"

"Well, off the top of my head, there's my mother, Hades, and Zeus. My mother wouldn't do something so irrational, but Hades and Zeus would definitely not be happy that Poseidon broke the Oath, so they'd probably try to kill you."

"That explains the Fury, and the lightning bolt that struck the car on our way here. The hellhound, it was a beast of darkness. Would it be safe to assume that Hades had a hand in this specific attack?"

"Y-yeah, I think so. Hades is the only god that can command the hellhounds- they're from the Fields of Punishment, which is part of his domain."

Percy hummed, intrigued. "So, it seems both of my Uncles have failed to kill me. It is almost guaranteed that they will try again, isn't it? I don't expect millenia-old beings to give up on their pursuits that easily- their tenacity is to be admired, at the very least."

"...Is this really the time to be complimenting them?"

"Respect will be given where respect is due."

"Well, I don't think anyone could really blame you if you were a little lacking in respect right now."

Percy finally turned his head to face Annabeth, taking his eyes off the spot where the hellhound expired. His face was serenely blank. "My Uncles have acknowledged that I am valuable enough to be worth killing, and with that acknowledgment comes a certain level of respect- that which is between foes. It would be more rude to not respond in kind."

"An odd outlook, Mr. Jackson," Chiron said, clopping up to the two preteens. "Though, you are certainly not wrong. If there was not some amount of respect between enemies, then battle would be nothing but killing for the sake of killing. I'd like to think that most of us are above such depravity."

Percy nodded at Chiron in greeting. Annabeth seemed lost in thought.

"Well, I do think that's enough excitement for tonight," Chiron said, raising his voice so all the gather campers could hear him. "Congratulations to the blue team and the Hermes Cabin for claiming victory tonight! And now, let us call it a day."


	6. Chapter 6

After Capture the Flag, things in Camp began to steadily become more tense. People avoided Percy, sometimes shooting him venomous glares, sometimes eyeing him with fear. The mere appearance of the hellhound in their haven, regardless of how quickly it was dispatched, seemed to have disturbed the other campers. They weren't used to feeling unsafe in their home. Percy knew better.

No fortress was infallible, no bunker impenetrable. There was no place safe from those with enough power and determination, a sentiment Percy was intimately familiar with. How could he not be, when one of his greatest enemies was the driving force behind his place of refuge? To think, all that time, he had let his guard down, while just above him… Watching. Waiting.

Regardless, the campers seemed to blame Percy for the newfound turmoil. Then again, they weren't exactly wrong. The hellhound had specifically targeted him, the Son of Poseidon. Something like this had never happened to a child of the other Olympians, except for the Daughter of Zeus, Thalia. It was clear that, between these two stories, children of the Big Three were bad omens.

Percy did not mind the silence. Rather, he was more uncomfortable with the murmuring and muttering that followed him. The subtle noises reminded him of the voices that would filter through the streets of Yharnam, the ramblings of the mad citizens as they looked for more beasts to slay, minds so addled by blood they thought _he_ was a monster. His first few encounters with the Yharnamites were… Less than pleasant. He'd attempted to communicate with them, but it seemed to only alarm them, the idea that a beast could have any sort of sentience beyond its base instincts. They struck him down with impunity dozens of times, ignoring his pleas of mercy. Blasting holes through his head, shearing him into pieces with ragged metal, covering him in glistening oil and orange flame and watching him _burn_. His screams echoed through Yharnam so often that they became embedded into the cobblestones underfoot. Occasionally, Percy would stop, tilt his head, and _listen._ During these moments, he could sometimes hear his own death throes, bouncing around the gothic architecture. Memories of a time that was long past- or perhaps, a time that had never even happened. Still, the experience stuck with him, and he hardened his heart.

Not enough, apparently.

Percy became tenser as the days went on, jumping at shadows, hallucinating in the dead of night. He began to have dreams of a beach. It was not the beach outside his cabin, overlooking Long Island Sound. Percy had no clue where it was. He stood on the yellow sands, staring out over the sea, when clouds would suddenly roll over the waves, darkening the sky. Rain poured, thunder flashed, and two men appeared on the beach. They wore traditional Greek tunics. One was trimmed in the same sea green as Percy's eyes, and the other was a pale sky blue.

The men rushed each other, meeting midway in a fierce battle of fists. With every blow that connected, the world rocked as lightning fell from the heavens, and the ground underneath him trembled. It was as if nature was at war with itself- something that would likely only happen if his father and uncle, Poseidon and Zeus, were to engage in combat. Why, though, would they be fighting?

Over the screaming winds and roaring waves, Percy could barely make out the words shouted by who he presumed was Zeus. "Thief! Return it to me!"

Zeus believed Poseidon stole something from him. What, though, could be so important that such a powerful being would risk the integrity of the world itself just to have it back safely in hand?

Every time, these dreams would end with the sands falling into a chasm that grew before his very eyes, a deep gouge in the earth that dropped into an endless void. A crooning voice would echo up from the depths of hell, laughter sounding like the grating of a steel blade on stone.

"Come down, little hero! Return from whence you came, Good Hunter!"

* * *

Percy bolted upright in his bed, panting heavily, heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, dripping down his back to be soaked up by his shirt. Shaking his head, Percy swung his feet over the edge of the bed, slipping on his shoes. It was never wise to return to sleep after a nightmare, lest it pick up where it ended.

Outside Cabin Three, far in the distance, the sky rumbled. A storm was coming, charged with arcane energy. Instantly, Percy knew that this storm would pierce the Camp's protective barrier.

Walking to the front door of the cabin, Percy pulled it open, and stopped cold. There, on the floor of his porch, was a newspaper. The headline was circled by a black marker.

* * *

 _30-YEAR OLD SALLY JACKSON FOUND MURDERED IN HER APARTMENT!_

* * *

It took hours for Percy to properly read through and digest the article, getting lost in thought every third word. When he finally pulled his head away from the paper, it was light outside, the sun hanging nearly directly over his head. Percy rose to his feet, and was halfway across Camp before he even realized what he was doing. After he _did_ realize, he just moved faster.

It took mere minutes to reach the Big House and slam open the front door, thoroughly surprising Chiron, Annabeth, and Grover. Mr. D seemed to have expected him, however. Percy ignored their reactions, slapping down the newspaper in front of the old horse, oriented so he would be able to read the title clearly.

"The gods exist. Hades exist. Therefore, the Underworld exists. _How do I get there?"_

Chiron paled dangerously, as if all the blood in his body had vanished at once. He swallowed hard, releasing a shuddering breath, before finally speaking. "Perseus, you do not know what you are asking for."

"I understand it perfectly."

"No, you do not. No demigod has ever traveled to the Underworld and managed to successfully retrieved the soul of one under the control of Hades. Hercules, Houdini, Orhpeus- many have tried, and all have failed. Several of those heroes died themselves, trapped within the Underworld alongside the one they tried to rescue!"

"They are not me."

"Are you suggesting that you, an adolescent with less than a month of formal training, are better than the heroes of old?"

"Not better. Different."

"All the differences in the world would not change the fact that Hades is a god, and you are a mere mortal!" Percy's temper finally reached its breaking point. He slammed his fists on the table, cracking the wood and leaving circular imprints.

"Do _not_ play games with me, Chiron!" Percy shouted. "My mother is in hell because that fat bastard decided his car was more important than her life!"

"Alright, that's enough of that," Mr. D interjected. With a simple flick of his hand, vines sprouted from between the floorboards, growing long enough to wrap around Percy's wrists and yank his hands backwards.

"You…" Percy growled, straining against his bonds. The well of arcane energy within him opened to the world, and the Big House began to groan as it took hold of the liquid in the pipes. In the kitchen, the knobs for all the faucets shot off, water forcing its way through. Mr. D waved his hand once more, instantly repairing all the damage, as well as repressing Percy's powers. A pressure began to build within the boy's chest, pushing against his lungs and forcing his breath out, leaving him winded.

"Mr. D!" Chiron cried, horrified.

"Calm down, you old horse. I haven't done anything to the boy- just restrained him."

"Whatever you've done, it is hurting him!" Chiron gestured to Percy, whose skin was beginning to steam, splotchy red patches surfacing on his fair skin.

"That's the boy's fault for channeling more godly energy than his body can handle," Mr. D said casually, waving away the accusation. "Although I must admit, it is a fairly impressive amount for a young demigod. Almost on par with a few of the weaker minor gods. It'll be interesting to see what he becomes in a few years."

"Release him now!" Chiron roared, standing his wheelchair and taking on his centaur form.

Mr. D narrowed his eyes. "I _do_ so hope that wasn't a threat, Chiron."

"It is whatever it needs to be, Dionysus. _Release the boy_."

God and centaur stared each other down from their vastly different heights. Meanwhile, across the table, bumps began erupting across Percy's body as his blood boiled, a crimson vapor seeping out of his eyes, mouth, and nose. Finally, just when Annabeth and Grover thought Percy would combust into flames, Mr. D sighed and looked away from Chiron. He snapped his fingers, and his powers receded.

Instantly, a shockwave burst out of Percy's body, the energy rushing out, leaving hundreds of small cuts on the way. Annabeth and Grover were thrown to the ground, chairs toppled over, while Chiron had to step back to prevent being kneecapped by the flung table. Mr. D just let everything wash over the protective field he had instinctively manifested.

Percy fell to the ground, knees digging into the warped wood beneath him. The sudden explosion had cratered the floor, leaving him on unsteady ground with unsteady feet. It was impossible for him to stand. Still, he attempted just that, blood mist seeping out of every pore, liquid blood leaking from the numerous cuts. His scowl was still in place, however, pure rage cleaving through all the pain to be the dominant emotion.

"You… You will… _Pay,_ " Percy uttered, before collapsing onto his side, releasing a rattling breath before finally going still.

Chiron ran around the table, as best as he could with his increased height and the demolished floor. He knelt down, checking the boy's pulse and breathing. They were surprisingly strong, but he could feel them getting weaker by the second.

"Annabeth, Grover, get Perseus to the Apollo Cabin!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you- injecting more godly energy would hardly improve this situation, would it?"

"Then… To the beach. He is Poseidon's son; the water will heal him."

Annabeth and Grover did as asked, still silent from shock. Luckily, though, they weren't unresponsive. Annabeth looped her arms under Percy's, while Grover grabbed his legs. They lifted him from the pool of blood he had been laying in, ignoring the way it leaked onto their fingers, dripping down the digits to stain their arms. Instead, they moved as quickly as they could.

* * *

Percy woke to a pleasant coolness surrounding him, almost lulling him back to sleep. It was only through sheer willpower that he managed to open his eyes. What he saw stunned him. A myriad of colors floated over him, beams from the evening sun shattering into a rainbow when they struck the waves above him. The water rippled ever so slightly, distorting his vision into a kaleidoscope, more intriguing than disorienting.

Percy breathed in deeply, and was only marginally surprised when he didn't begin drowning. It seemed he was his father's son after all.

He shifted his hand, bringing it up to his face, twisting it this way and that. He marveled at the way the refracted light swirled around him, only broken from his silent reverie when something nudged his shoulder. He twisted upright and around, and found himself looking at a familiar face. The same angular features, twisted dark locks, and ocean-blue eyes...

" _Mom!?"_ he cried, floating backwards in shock. The woman merely shook her head, a somber smile painted across her face.

" _I am afraid not, young lord. I am merely a nereid in the court of your father. He sends me with a message."_ She didn't move her mouth when she spoke, and Percy belatedly realized that he had not, either. Telepathy, it seemed. Likely because sound did not travel well underwater.

" _...I see,"_ Percy said, unable to completely mask the disappointment in his thoughts. " _What is his message?"_

" _Lord Poseidon wishes you to know that he does care for you, even if he is not able to show it. Due to the Ancient Laws, he could not appear before you while you lived amongst the mortals. Now, even though you are in the world of the gods, the tension between him and his brother continues to hinder him. He fears that to visit you now would spark Lord Zeus' temper, sending Olympus into war."_

" _My uncle believes Father has stolen something from him, yes? What is that thing?"_

The nereid's eyebrows rose. " _You are well informed, young lord."_

" _I had a dream, just last night. Two men, whom I believe were my father and my uncle due to their control over the weather and sea, were fighting on a beach. The one who seemed to be Zeus called the other a thief. What could be so important that they would battle so fiercely?"_

The nereid nodded in understanding. " _Prophetic dreams. A natural occurrence for many demigods. The object in question is Lord Zeus' Master Bolt."_

Percy narrowed his eyes. " _Master Bolt? But, my uncle is the Lord of the Sky. Is lightning not naturally a part of his domain?"_

" _It is, but the Master Bolt is Lord Zeus' symbol of power; forged by the Elder Cyclopes, it allows him to concentrate his godly abilities into a burst of power shaped like a lightning bolt. The power is… Immense. With it, Lord Zeus single-handedly sheered off the top of Mount Othrys, destroying the palace of the Titans in one blow."_

" _That… Sounds like something dangerous to be laying about."_

" _Indeed. That is why Lord Zeus is so anxious to have it returned; there is no telling what havoc it will wreak in the wrong hands."_

" _And he believes Father has it?"_

" _Well…"_ the nereid trailed off sheepishly.

" _He doesn't have a valid reason, does he."_

The nereid shook her head. Percy sighed through his nose, the bubbles tickling his face on their way up to the surface.

" _How poor is their relationship? I expect it to be strained over the years- the incident with the Golden Net comes to mind- but for my uncle to jump to such wild accusations with the fate of the world at stake…"_

" _There are other factors at play, young lord. Do not assume that the Lord of the Sky is completely irrational,"_ she reprimanded. Percy conceded the point.

" _Then, what other factors are there?"_

The nereids eyes went blank for a moment. They snapped back to focus near-instantly, but Percy was able to glimpse the fading of her pupils.

" _I apologize, young lord, but I am not at liberty to say. Lord Poseidon is calling to me, so we must end our meeting here."_

Percy nodded, then realized something. " _Wait!"_ The nereid turned back to him from where she was ready to swim away. " _How do I return to the surface?"_ he asked.

The nereid smiled gently. " _The ocean is yours to control, young lord. Will it, and it shall be. Farewell, Perseus."_

Percy watched as she vanished into the currents of the depths, then turned his sight to the sky above. He thought about moving upwards, and was pleased when the water responded. He reached down to the well of arcane energy within him, and was surprised to see that it had become exponentially larger. So large, he couldn't even sense the far reaches of it… Actually, it seems like it hadn't grown. Rather, the metaphysical walls which had restrained it seemed to have dissolved, merging his personal energy with that of the sea, making them into one. He was truly a Son of the Sea, and the realization filled him with euphoria.

This… This was where he belonged. Not in the mortal world, surrounded by filth like _Gabe_. Not in Camp Half-Blood, surrounded by those who, while like him, could not have been more different. And most definitely not in the blood-stained streets of Yharnam, surrounded by the beasts which he nearly became. Yet, he knew that he would never be able to settle here. He would be restless, looking for something, _anything_ to do that would bring him a step closer to true freedom.

Even now, Percy still felt like a prisoner of the Dream. Space and time were trivial to the Great Ones, and though he may have struck down the Moon Presence, it was not truly dead, if the reincarnation of Amygdala was to be believed. Remnants of the Dream loomed over him, invading his mind, reminding him that his nightmare would never truly be over until he found the Moon Presence in this new world, and made _sure_ to extinguish it.

He could only be free when the world was drowned in pale blood.


End file.
